


Entrapment

by iesika



Series: Entrapment [1]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Bondage, Identity Issues, M/M, Officer Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iesika/pseuds/iesika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If an officer of the law clocks you going sixty over the limit, you probably shouldn't call him a dick. Even if that's his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entrapment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glymr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/gifts).



  
  
  
It hasn't been Tim's night. He'd had *plans,* damn it. He was *supposed* to be on Dick's couch right now scarfing cheese-steak fajitas or maybe making out, some crappy old movie playing in the background. Instead, he'd waited at Dick's apartment for more than an hour before Dick had called him and told him he wouldn't be getting off shift until after Tim was due home for the night. Tim had been pissed, of course, but less at Dick (who doubtless had a good *reason* for the extra hours, probably having to with helping people), and more at himself for being so disappointed.  
  
Anyway, Tim had been angry when he left Dick's apartment, headed back toward the bridge and Gotham. And when Tim was driving while angry, he had a tendency to... Well. The Redbird went very, very fast.  
  
Fast enough that he really *could* outrun the squad car flashing its lights behind him, but it would be hard to lose the car before he got to the bridge. There weren't a lot of places he could pull off to shake pursuit, and it would be dangerous to try and take the bridge at top speed (not so much for Tim as for the cop and any bystanders). Better to pull over, be as polite as possible, and call Oracle as soon as the ticket was written.  
  
Even if Tim really *could* use the adrenaline rush of a good high-speed chase. It wouldn't quite make up for not getting laid tonight, but it would be a start.  
  
Cursing under his breath, Tim pulled over to the shoulder of the dark highway and cut the ignition. He slumped back against the seat and tapped his thighs impatiently as he watched the car pull over just ahead of him and come to a stop.  
  
The cop took a few minutes to get out of the car (a tactic used to make the driver nervous, more often than not. Tim knew his plates were clean, so there was no real reason for the delay), and when he did finally open the door to the squad car, he turned a flashlight on Tim's windshield almost immediately. Tim raised one hand against the glare and cursed again. He was one of *those* cops. There was a good chance he'd taken one look at the flashy body of Tim's car and made up his mind about the kind of person driving it. He almost certainly thought Tim was rich, young, privileged and reckless, possibly well-connected enough to expect to get out of a ticket. Which...wouldn't be entirely inaccurate. Okay. Tim was going to stop now.  
  
The man (the cop *was* a man, fairly tall and kind of broad-shouldered and that was about all Tim could make out with the light in his face) knocked on Tim's window, and Tim plastered on his best good-boy face and hit the button to roll it down. "Is there a problem, officer?"  
  
"I'll say," the cop said, and Tim had to fight to keep his face even, because that voice sounded really familiar somehow. "Do you know how fast you were going?"  
  
About a hundred and twenty, judging by how the Redbird had been handling - really coming into her stride. Tim hadn't actually been looking at the speedometer. "Was I speeding, sir?"  
  
"'Was I speeding?'" the officer repeated, his voice high and mocking. "Get out of the car, son."  
  
Tim blinked against the brightness of the flashlight. Get out? That wasn't exactly regular procedure - but, a police officer *did* have the right to request he leave the vehicle, so Tim unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to grab the door-handle.  
  
That was when the sudden *wrongness* of the situation hit him. He felt his shoulders tense, and a part of him ached for the bo collapsed under his seat. Why was the cop still shining the light *directly* in Tim's face? "Can I, uh, see your badge?" he asked, trying to sound intimidated. The cop - if he was a cop - shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but didn't move the light or reach for his identification. "It's just..." he said, fishing around in his brain. "My aunt's a lawyer, and she told me I should always ask for identification if I -"  
  
"Kid," the guy said. He sighed, and flashed his badge at Tim too fast for Tim to read it before putting it away again, all without moving the flashlight an inch. "Get out. Of the car."  
  
Tim set his jaw. He was even more suspicious now than he had been a minute ago, but if he didn't play along, and this guy really was on the up and up (and just a colossal *asshole*) he was just going to make things worse for himself. On the other hand, if this was some kind of scam... Tim could probably take care of himself. He opened the door and climbed out, careful to keep the door between himself and the cop. If the guy tried anything, Tim could slam it into his knees and immobilize the hand holding the flashlight with a strike to the wrist. After that, his vision would be clearer, and he'd be on better footing - hopefully in time to prevent the man going for a gun.  
  
"Step away from the vehicle."  
  
Or not. Tim's hands tightened into fists without his conscious control. He took three steps back, away from the police officer, who shut the door. An eighteen-wheeler rumbled by, throwing up dust and fast-food wrappers in its wake and leaving the foul smell of diesel exhaust to linger where Tim stood. Tim didn't flinch, and neither did the officer, who -  
  
Tim squinted against the light. Not quite six feet. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Then he took two steps toward Tim, and everything clicked into place. He rolled his eyes up at the smoggy night sky, smiling a little despite himself, because he should have *known*. Even if Dick *was* pretty good at disguising his voice, he'd never managed to hide the way he *moved.* Not from Tim, anway. "Dick-"  
  
Dick closed the distance between them and shoved him against the side of the car, his club across Tim's neck. "What did you call me?"  
  
The move surprised Tim into a quick bark of laughter. "Oh come on, Dick-"  
  
The club pressed against Tim's throat hard enough to rob him of his voice. "Call me that again and you're gonna have worse problems than a little speeding ticket."  
  
Despite the pressure, Tim's body was quaking with silent laughter. He gasped and choked a little, trying to get a good verbal sting out, but Dick just tightened his hold. After almost a minute of this, Tim decided Dick wasn't planning to move *himself* and lashed out with a pair of quick strikes under Dick's raised arms - which didn't connect properly, because Dick started moving him the instant Tim raised his hands, spinning him and slamming him face first against the back of the car. He pinned Tim there with his body weight, which wasn't exactly a new experience, between years of sparring and a healthy sex life. It wasn't until he felt the cold metal of the cuffs around his wrists, heard the clink they made as they were ratcheted into place, that Tim stopped laughing. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, still panting slightly.  
  
"You think you can get away with attacking a police officer?" Dick's voice was hard and still not quite his own.  
  
"Are you *mind controlled?*" Tim said with a little breath of a laugh. "Had a run in with the Hatter?" Dick caught him by the back of the neck and forced his head down against the polished surface of the car, but Tim couldn't stop laughing. The motion pressed Dick's body tighter against Tim's back. Was that Dick's gun, or - no, Dick was wearing a shoulder holster. "Okay," Tim said, pressing his ass back against him out of reflex. "Not Hatter. Has *Ivy* been loose on this side of the river?"  
  
"If you don't shut your mouth," Dick said in his ear, and the humor in his voice made him sound more like himself. "I'm gonna give you something to put in it."  
  
Tim turned his face against the metal, his shoulders shaking as he snickered. "Oh, *please* Officer!" he said, making his voice go high and thready. "Anything to get out of this ticket -"  
  
Dick's weight disappeared from Tim's back so suddenly that Tim started sliding down off the side of the car before he could get his legs braced. Dick grabbed him by the cuffs and the shoulder and spun him around before he could hit the ground, shoving him down to his knees. "Yeah?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Tim breathed, looking up at Dick in his uniform. He tried to school his expression into something appropriate for his character, but didn't think he was succeeding.  
  
Dick was certainly having trouble keeping a straight face. His eyes were twinkling in the dim glow of Tim's taillights and the flashlight that now lay on the ground not far from Tim's knees. The corner of his mouth twitched up, and he unfastened his belt. "You were going sixty over," he said as he lowered his zipper. Tim licked his lips. "Not to mention the charge for assaulting an officer. You better make this *good*."  
  
“You sure you want to-” Tim's mouth had started watering, and he broke off to swallow as Dick pulled his cock out of his pants, already mostly hard. Dick was obviously enjoying this little game. “To do this on the side of the road? Where anyone could see?”  
  
“Not a lot of traffic, this time of night,” Dick – no, Officer Grayson – said. He took his cock in hand and stroked Tim's face with the head, first his cheek, his lips, and then his chin. Tim breathed in the smell of him, thick even over the stink of exhaust.  
  
Another vehicle whizzed by, sending Tim's hair blowing into disarray. “If somebody saw this, you could lose your job.”  
  
Officer Grayson laughed. “In this town? Open your mouth, kid.” This time when the head of his cock bumped Tim's bottom lip, Tim let his mouth fall open and relaxed his mouth for a sucking kiss to the tip. He caressed the head with his tongue, soft and wet as he could make it, and hummed at the familiar taste and the feel of it firming under his tongue. He opened his mouth a little wider, covering his teeth with his lips-  
  
And got his mouth filled, rather abruptly. He made a sound of surprise and adjusted the angle of his neck. It was going to be like that, then? Tim sucked and swallowed, stroking with the flat if his tongue, and drew back to get a good breath. This was harder when he couldn't use his hands – usually he'd have his fist around the base of Dick's erection, guiding and limiting his thrusts. But Tim was, if anything, adaptable. When he felt Dick's fingers slide into his hair, he took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and let himself be guided down until he felt the pressure give in the back of his throat.  
  
“Oh, yeah.” Officer Grayson groaned, his voice deep and gusty. “You've done this before, huh? You're a – uh,” he grunted as Tim sucked and swallowed, “an *expert* cocksucker, aren't you?”  
  
Dick should really know by now not to try and make Tim laugh while he was deep-throating. He choked a little and pulled back as far as Dick's hands would let him – just far enough, it turned out – sucked a breath in through his nose, and swallowed as his head was pulled back down again.  
  
“Yeah,” Grayson breathed, as he thrust, slowly and deliberately, into Tim's throat. “Pretty mouth like that, I bet you get lots of practice.”  
  
Tim hummed his agreement.  
  
“Sweet little – ah. Little mouth- fuck, your tongue-”  
  
He withdrew enough for Tim to really *work* the head, pressing and stroking, sucking, tightening his lips as Dick thrust back in, harder this time, his hand cupping Tim's jaw, holding his mouth open. Tim took the dare and scraped the shaft lightly with his teeth on the next thrust, earning himself a sharp *yank* to the hair as Dick withdrew abruptly and jerked his head back.  
  
“You little fucker,” he snapped, and pulled Tim's hair until he scrambled to his feet, nearly pitching forward as he fought for his balance. “You think this is a game?”  
  
“Oh, no sir,” Tim said, slightly hoarse but as wide-eyed and earnest as he could manage. “I swear I don't want any trouble-”  
  
He was spun, roughly, and slammed against the trunk of the car. Dick – Officer Grayson – kicked his legs out until he was spread and shoved his upper body against the car with a hand between his shoulders. With his other hand, he pulled Tim's hips back against him and reached around to cup Tim's rather predictable erection through his jeans. “You like that. Sucking some guy off on the side of the road – got you all hard.”  
  
Tim gasped and thrust against his grasping hand. “Yes, sir,” he panted, even though it hadn't really been a question.  
  
“Liked my cock in your mouth? Down your throat?”  
  
Tim moaned and pressed his cheek to the cool metal. “Oh,” gasped as Dick's grip tightened. “Yes. Yes *sir*.”  
  
“Bet you'd love it in your ass.”  
  
Tim twisted and bucked his hips, trying to turn pressure into friction. “Yes,” he breathed, “you - *yes,* Dick. God, fuck me-”  
  
“I'm gonna,” Dick threatened - *promised*, and fumbled Tim's jeans open one-handed. “Don't move a muscle.” He stepped back, letting Tim go for an instant to grab his pants and pull, yanking jeans and briefs down to his knees. He rucked up Tim's shirt and pushed him forward again, and *damn*, the car was *cold.* *Hard.* He thrust against it anyway.  
  
He could hear Dick moving behind him as his hands withdrew. Cloth noises – clothing noises, the familiar click of a plastic bottle cap. Oh, good, he'd come prepared. Tim tried to laugh, but it turned into a hiss and a moan as cold liquid hit his ass just at the base of his spine and warm fingers followed, stroking down. Tim spread his legs as far as his pants would let him and lifted up onto his toes as Dick started to massage the skin around his hole, circling, pressing in on every pass.  
  
“Jesus,” Tim gasped, “fuck, hurry up. If somebody sees us-”  
  
“I'm doing a very thorough search for hidden narcotics,” Dick said, sounding almost entirely like himself. He thrust into Tim with two twisting fingers, fucking and bending them as Tim writhed helplessly on top of the car. “Kids these days, you never know what they're gonna try.”  
  
“I'm *trying* not to-” come all over his car, but that got lost in a moan as Dick pulled his fingers out and grabbed Tim's hip with one sticky hand. Tim could feel Dick's cock sliding, slick, up his cleft, nudging his hole over and over in a tease. “You fucking-”  
  
“Love it,” Dick growled. “You love it.”  
  
“Oh, God,” Tim panted. “If you don't-” Dick *pressed*, pushing just the head past the tight ring of muscle. “Ohh,” Tim moaned. “You – “ He lingered there, not thrusting, not going any deeper, his hips barely moving at all. “Goddamnit, Dick, fuck me already!”  
  
The hand on his hip pulled him back, slowly, until the head of his cock was just brushing the side of the Redbird, leaving damp streaks across the bright finish. Dick's other hand forced his head down so that he couldn't see any more, pressing his cheek to the trunk, and then Dick braced himself with one hand beside Tim's head and *yanked* with other at the same time he drove his hips forward, pulling Tim back onto his cock, spreading him open, pressing deep in one long thrust. He pulled back, pushing Tim's hips forward until the head of his cock slapped against the car just shy of painfully, making Tim gasp and jerk back to meet the return thrust, driving into him, slow at first and then harder- faster -  
  
“Oh god,” Tim gasped. He let out a whimper as his cock struck the car again, a moan as Dick thrust deep. “Fuck. Fuck.”  
  
“Tight.” Dick panted into his ear. “Sweet. You like that. Like it rough-”  
  
“*Fuck*” Tim hissed. He was going to – no. Dick pulled back a little, changed the angle of his thrusts, pulling Tim back from the edge. “Damn it, you-”  
  
Hard again, stroking over his prostate, driving him against the car, pinning his erection between his stomach and the cool metal. The car was warming quickly under his body. He was going to come all over it. He was- he was going to need a car-wash before he could bring her back to the cave, if -  
  
Dick's thrusts became uneven, and Tim bucked, trying to catch the rhythm again. It was no use though - Dick was thrusting shallowly now, too slow and not nearly deep enough – not as deep as Tim *needed.* It was a *tease* was what it was, and Tim squirmed and fought his hold, trying to get more contact, more friction, more - *more*.  
  
“You want it?” Dick asked, speeding his thrusts up just a little.  
  
“Dick-”  
  
“Want to get fucked?”  
  
“Goddamn it, Dick, do it harder, you-” Tim was rocked up onto his toes again with the force of the next thrust. He was driven forward, banging his chin on the trunk and his hips against the side of the car, pinned there by Dick's weight and unable move an inch. Dick's thrusts were fast and deep, now, *hard*, but the angle was all wrong, and Tim still couldn't – he was almost -  
  
Dick cursed quietly and his rhythm stuttered. He drove into Tim hard a few more times, lingering on the down-stroke, the thrusts suddenly easier, slicker as he came inside him. Oh, fuck. Fuck, no. Tim wasn't done. He wasn't – Dick was pulling out, leaving him empty, clenching at nothing, leaving him *hanging*. Tim cursed and sobbed, stuck on the edge. He could feel the heat of Dick's come inside him, wetness sliding down his thigh-  
  
“I hate you,” Tim sobbed. When Dick just laughed and ran his thumb up the cleft of Tim's ass, Tim banged his forehead against the trunk of the car. “I mean it. You're cruel and evil and I *hate you*” Dick chuckled. Tim started trying to slip the cuffs so that he could throttle him, but Dick's hand covered both of his, stilling his struggles. “You bastard, let me go. Let me *come*-"  
  
"You're in no position to be making demands, son," Dick said, in that deeper, gruffer voice. Officer Grayson again, then. "You know what they do to pretty boys like you in jail?" He speared Tim with his thumb to illustrate his point, and Tim whimpered and twisted his hips, pushing back for more friction. "You might like that, though. Find you an older man, a big strong type to take you under his-" he twisted his thumb, *screwing* it into Tim on the next thrust "-wing?"  
  
"You are such an asshole," Tim panted, but he couldn't stop his hips from twitching, his thighs from shaking. He felt Dick's mouth at the nape of his neck in a quick, sucking kiss, felt the hot gusts of his laughter. Dick ran his hands up Tim's arms to his shoulders and squeezed, gently, then stroked down his back to grip his hips and - oh. Tim might be willing to forgive him, after all, because he heard Dick's knees scuff against the asphalt and felt a hot breath against his thigh, followed by a hotter tongue.  
  
"Tell you what," Grayson growled. "Since you're so damned pretty, not only am I going to let that slide, I'm going to do you a little favor."  
  
Tim swallowed and spread his legs as far as he could with his pants around his knees, bracing himself on the hood and lifting up onto his toes. The movement made Dick laugh, and then Tim felt teeth scrape at the juncture of his thigh and his ass, dangerously, thrillingly close to his sack. The scrape became a press, and Tim whimpered brokenly. Dick let go of him, and then one big, warm hand cupped the top of his thigh, thumb stroking up the cleft of his ass to clutch and spread him wide.  
  
Something cool and smooth touched the back of his knee, and Tim twitched. That wasn't Dick's hand, or his tongue. Tim turned his head, craning his neck, but he couldn't actually see what was touching him. It traced up the inside of his thigh, following the damp trail left by Dick's tongue. Tim was so focused on identifying the sensation that the heat of Dick's tongue on his asshole took him completely by surprise. He shouted hoarsely and pressed back, urging Dick to stop teasing and do it *properly* - and there was that cool, hard touch again, tapping his balls and rubbing along the length of Tim's erection. Whatever it was, it was long and hard and -  
  
Tim's eyes widened and he pulled his body up off the car, twisting and trying to see - Dick pushed him roughly back down. "You said you wanted to get fucked."  
  
"Is that your *nightstick?*" Tim demanded, craning his neck. The only answer he got was a hot huff of laughter and the nudge of something round and blunt against his hole.   
  
"You know what you look like from here?" Dick punctuated his question with a another nudge, this time pressing just inside in a shallow thrust. "Hot little hole - *hungry* little hole, clenching-" He thrust again, quick and shallow, just spreading his hole but not going any deeper. Tim forgot his outrage and shifted his hips back against the touch, which immediately disappeared, along with Dick's restraining hand. He heard the click of the bottle cap, and then before he could decide whether he ought to make a break for it, Dick's hand was back, spreading him again as the thick stick slid slowly, smoothly into him. Tim squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply.  
  
The club wasn't that much thicker than Dick's cock, but it was stiff and straight and very smooth. He used toys sometimes, and at least one of them was *much* bigger than this, but the feel of it was just so strange - completely unyielding where he was used to the feel of more forgiving flesh or silicone. Then there was the idea of it - somehow, this felt a lot dirtier than using a purpose-built sex toy.  
  
Possibly because Tim was handcuffed and spread across the back of his car on a public road.  
  
The *stroke* of it felt - there was no curve to it, none at all, and he could feel the press of the tip of it so clearly, moving inside him. Dick slid it out and in again, a little faster but still carefully, smoothly, with a little twist - Tim stopped analyzing and groaned.  
  
"Knew you'd like that," Dick whispered, and Tim couldn't tell which voice he was using. He was pretty sure it didn't matter anymore. "Knew you'd-" his voice caught as Tim moaned again and pressed back, and then Tim felt Dick's hot mouth tracing kisses over his ass, Dick's tongue in the cleft, licking where Tim's thin skin was stretched so tight. "Tell me-"  
  
Tim couldn't actually get any words out, so he just groaned, shifting his hips to adjust the angle. God, it felt *good*. *Strange*, yes, but *good*. He sucked in a breath and bent his knees, and Dick took the hint, shifting his grip and changing the pressure, until the tip of the club pressed down instead of up, stroking him inside and - Tim hissed. "There."  
  
"Yeah?" Dick's voice. Dick-  
  
"*God*," Tim sobbed, feeling utterly broken. The tip was right there, nudging his prostate - and with his confirmation, Dick slid his hand up to Tim's hip, holding him tight against the body of the car, unable to move, and started fucking him with sharp, fast little thrusts, stabbing into him, sending jolts through his body with every press. His knees trembled and he leaned forward, letting the car take most of his weight, half afraid to move because each thrust was just a millimeter shy of painful, delivered with such accuracy that Tim was really a little in *awe*. He shuddered all over, rubbing his face against the hood of the car, feeling flushed and half-sick with sensation. He wasn't going to need more than this. If Dick just kept it up - just -  
  
The grip on his hip changed and Dick pulled him back, away from the car. "Stand up," he whispered.  
  
Tim pressed his cheek to the hood. "God, Dick, I can't-"  
  
"I've got you. Stand up, so I can-"  
  
Tim struggled a little but he felt too weak and shocky to lift his upper body from the car. He slid backward a little, and Dick moved with him, keeping the jabbing little thrusts from becoming too rough. He felt a kiss to the base of his spine, and then Dick stopped thrusting long enough to grab the chain of the handcuffs, pulling him up and back until he was standing, leaning back against Dick's shoulder. Dick caught him and and wrapped an arm around to grab Tim's cock, squeezing just gently and barely stroking, just *holding* as he grabbed the stick again and resumed those fast, hard little thrusts that made Tim - he slumped back and let Dick take his weight, felt Dicks' face press to the small of his back. Dick *squeezed* -  
  
It was like his orgasm was being driven up and out of him. Dick stopped thrusting and just *pressed*, massaging his prostate with the tip of the club, and it was so good it *hurt*. Tim sobbed and gasped, riding it, his hips punching the air, driving into Dick's slick fist. And then his knees gave out and he sank to his knees, sliding down Dick's body to land a little too hard. It was really only Dick's arms around him that kept him from toppling all the way. The club was still inside him, sending little jolts of sensation through him as he moved, and Tim faintly recognized the mewling sound he was hearing as coming from his own mouth. "Jesus," he whispered, unable to find his voice.  
  
"Mmm. You okay?"  
  
"*God*," Tim answered. He tipped forward. Dick caught him by the hair just an inch before he would have hit the side of the car and yanked his head back. He nudged Tim's neck with his mouth.  
  
"You made a mess," he growled in Tim's ear, Officer Grayson again. "All over that hot little ride of yours."  
  
Tim shuddered all over and bent his head under the urging of Dick's hand, down to the level of the car. He pressed his tongue to a droplet and licked up the long white streak running down toward the fender, the taste of semen and road dust thick on his tongue. Dick's fingers in his hair guided him until every last smear and splatter was gone and the shiny red finish was clean again.   
  
"There," that voice said in his ear, low and rough. "Isn't that better?"  
  
A truck rumbled by, stirring Tim's hair and blowing a half-crushed coffee cup against his knee.  
  
"Well," Officer Grayson said, brightly, pulling back to smack Tim on the ass, making him gasp as he clenched around the club in surprise. "I imagine you've learned your lesson, son."  
  
Tim let his hot face fall against the side of the car and didn't say anything. Eventually his brain would start working again, he was pretty sure.   
  
"Won't be speeding in this town again, will you?" He tapped the stick a few times, sending little jolts through Tim's body. "Or if you do, at least you know what you'll get."  
  
"Yes, sir," Tim murmured, letting his eyes drift shut. He should probably sit in the car for a while to regain his senses before he drove home. Oh, god. He was going to have to sit in one position all the way back to Gotham. Tim felt his mouth pull into an involuntary grimace of distaste.  
  
Dick shifted behind him, letting him go, and then there was the scuff of movement against the pavement - knees, then shoes. Tim couldn't really straighten up with the stick still inside of him, but he turned his head as best he could and watched him dust his hands off on his slacks. "Since you liked that stick so much, I think I'm gonna let you keep it. See ya around, kid," he said, and started back toward his squad car.  
  
Tim froze. "What?"  
  
Dick didn't answer - just threw an absent wave back over his shoulder as he climbed into his car. A moment later, he started the engine and signaled to get back onto the road  
  
Tim cursed and tried to sit up - then quickly changed his mind. He bent his wrists to scrabble at the cuffs instead, watching as Dick slowly pulled back onto the highway, escaping his reach. "I'm going to get you back!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.  
  
Dick's window was down, and he waved cheerily as he drove away. "I'm looking forward to it!"  
  



End file.
